


Welcome to the working week

by Minne_My



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 1998), The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minne_My/pseuds/Minne_My
Summary: AU. Charlie Blossom, tattoo artist to some interesting customers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Welcome to the working week

Charlie Blossom loved his job. He had been a terrible schoolboy, bunking off lessons and graffitiing bridges and walls. He’d been expelled and despaired over and he couldn’t care less. It was Frank who had finally hit upon the direction his wayward nephew could go in. Charlie did his apprenticeship with former biker turned tattoo artist, Mr Hellibore and stayed on, enjoying the benefits of being the youngest artist in the shop. His clients were varied and the artwork he created were displayed wonderfully, unfurling onto the skin, breathing with every twitch of muscle. He was a particular favourite with the older ladies and had a steady stream of them flocking in on recommendation. He was easy going and cheeky, never forgetting a face or name which made him popular.

His first customer from the old biddy’s brigade was a twittery woman who wanted a flock of bats rising up each arm. Her surname was Bat, she told him and she loved her namesake creatures so much that she felt like she was flying with them while she was at work. Upon further enquiry, she was a conductor. Charlie was impressed. She wore a baton in her frizzy greying bun and she was scatty but she was a free spirit and he liked that. He was wary of tattooing someone old enough to be his grandma but got the nod from Hellibore so he started. He inked a cluster of bats all the way from her forearms up to her shoulders on each arm as she hummed and sang her way through the jarring sensation. She was so pleased with her flock that she promised him a ticket to her next show. True to her word, the next time she came in, she presented him with an opportunity to see the orchestra the next month. He felt immense pride at his creation on her arms that swooped and darted as Miss Bat controlled her musicians and the music with gestures. It was like she was a witch casting a magic spell with every brandish of that silver wand. He applauded hard and as she turned around and bowed, she winked at him. Job well done.

The next one to come in requesting a piece of art was a lively Lancashire woman with a blonde beehive. She was effusive in manner and Charlie liked her, she reminded him of his grandma. She handed him a tarot card and asked for it to be imprinted on her. She put on a pair of huge headphones and listened to 1960’s songs with her eyes closed while he illustrated the Empress card on her delicate ankle, careful to be gentle over her papery skin. She kissed his cheek in delight when seeing the finished product and the others teased him about it for a week.

His other customers were also interesting. He’d never forget the chemistry teacher. In she swept, tall and imposing with a forbidding expression. She was a little scary, truth be told. Reminded him of the headmistress that expelled him from the last school.

‘Young man, I’m after something specific’ she said to him, with the sketch in her hand. He looked at it and saw the potential of her design. He showed her how he would refine it, shade it in and make it worthy of the woman’s request. She wanted no garish colours or fancy twiddles. She lay on the sofa, untucked her blouse and bared her skin with no qualms. Her skin was like velvet under his fingers as he carefully inked a beaker tipping out a puddle that seamlessly formed a black cat. She showed him a picture of her own sleek feline, Morgana and he made sure to create a likeness. She gave no sign that she was uncomfortable and at the end had graced him with a smile at the print she now carried on her ribs. She thanked him with quiet wonder and he felt warmed at her approval.

The next customer inspired wolf whistles upon her exit, the other artists envious that she was his chosen one. A chirpy blonde woman in a tight fuchsia dress on her way home from work strolled in and requested an owl perched on a crescent moon on her shoulder blade. She wore pink and black yoga gear upon the day of inking, showing signs of excitement and apprehension. Charlie reassured her nervous fluttering and waited respectfully for her to complete some breathing exercises before he traced it carefully on her freckled skin. She was a tad jumpy but got through it admirably. When she saw it in the mirror she squealed and clapped her hands in delight, bestowing a kiss on his embarrassed cheek.

‘I love it!’

She came back with a box of pink doughnuts for the entire shop and they all praised him for staying cool around such an attractive (Charlie never wanted to hear the word MILF ever again thanks to Serge) female. Charlie grinned and preened a little.

One customer he’d never forget strutted into the shop at the beginning of December, sat and looked at the book, eyebrows registering her thoughts as they all watched her covertly. She was scary as fuck and when she approached Charlie, Hellibore and Rowan-Webb both breathed a sigh of relief. She showed him what she wanted and commanded that he adjust the details here and there.

‘I hope you’ll do it justice’ she said with a glare. Charlie tried to keep his hand steady as he traced it several times over in his prep time. He couldn’t screw it up or he felt like she’d hex him. Her skirt suit was pinstripe, her hair cut in a sharp silver bob and she had irritable icy blue eyes. Charlie was shocked to hear from some of the others that she was a well-known dominatrix and high-class escort about town. Her hands gave her age away yet the skin to be decorated was a smooth ivory canvas. She wasn’t shy about stripping off and before long she lay down before him while Charlie concentrated hard on inscribing the Japanese dragon up the side of her shapely left leg and hip in several sessions that seemed not to faze her at all. She read magazines and books and looked bored, the needle barely affecting her and punctuated the monotonous buzz with occasional chatter. She was observant, accurately scanning the room and assessing the customers and their requests. Her comments were caustic albeit witty but right on the mark and Charlie could see why she was popular with men. She was classy and cruel and so many men longed for that. Not just men though, he found out in the second session. A lot of women wanted her to make them look good at functions and even paid for her for the same sexual services that men did. Charlie was fascinated and for his interest, she gave him a piece of advice.

‘Always be a good listener. People want to be listened to and the more you show willingness to listen to them, the more they will grant you the same favour. And if they do not respect you back, make sure you store up enough details about them in reserve when they do not return it.’

Charlie nodded solemnly, feeling his novice status keenly. He understood what she was was hinting at. She resumed flicking through her Swedish crime novel. He’d never enjoyed working on a big tattoo as much as this one, one of his most interesting customers. She adored her dragon and was very proud of it, giving him a £50 tip which none of the others could deny him. She had been a tricky customer and he had proved his worth. Every so often she would visit for a few tiny tattoos to be peppered at various points on her body and Charlie developed a respectful rapport with her. She was aloof and snappish at times but he knew how to handle her and she appreciated that. Each time he got a well-deserved £50 tip and she even recommended him to friends and clients for which he was grateful for.

‘MILF’ whispered Serge, eyes on stalks as she left. Every time. Charlie tried to ignore him while the other guys stifled a laugh. The first time she’d heard and turned around to the reception desk, giving Serge a predatory smile and wink before she carried on her way. Serge considered that to be a notch on his bedpost.

Charlie Blossom loved his job.


End file.
